"Back off, Ethan Moser," Harriet snapped, her usual amiable self in abeyance. "I won't disturb him. I only want to peek in on him."

  Abby turned to Moser with a pleading look, which was not well received. "Please. Just a peek," she pleaded. Oh, Ethan, you have no idea how bad this could be. Dim Fever can be lethal.

  The sheriff relented. "Alright. No questions, no conversation, no speaking at all. A peek, that's it."

  Harriet held out an arm to stop Abby from coming into the room with her. "You stay here, dear. Let's see he'll remember me. I've known him longer."

  Harriet cracked open the door. Abby stood behind her and could see Mr. Steed's head swiveling her way.

  Harriet couldn't resist. She darted inside, reached for his hand. "I was so worried about you, Mr. Steed."

  He gave her a puzzled grin. "Hello. Do I know you?"

  Chapter Thirteen

  The following morning, Abby heard from Harriet. "Nothing's changed, except, now Dr. Fleetwood is willing to say it could be focal retrograde amnesia."

  "What's that?"

  "He can remember new events, like being found by the ranch hands and the sheriff showing up or what's happened since he's been in the clinic, but nothing from the past, nothing from when he was in the bookstore or any personal information about himself. He doesn't know who he is, except for his name because that’s what he's been told."

  "He doesn't have any memory of what happened to him?"

  "Nothing. Dr. Fleetwood said there's no sign of an injury. He said this type of amnesia can occur with an injury, but there are also times when it's happened without any detectable brain damage."

  Abby heaved a sigh. "Nothing detectable. So this could be a human thing. Or..." she hesitated. "Harriet, do you think it's Dim Fever?"

  "I can't bear the thought, Abby."

  "We need to contact Selene."

  "I've sent a message."

  Abby felt so helpless. What could she do? How could she discover if he'd been hexed? I'm so new. I don't even have a probationary license. She heard a sudden intake of breath. "What is it, Harriet?"

  "Look, this might not work, in fact, it probably won't, but I want to try something. Meet me at the clinic in twenty minutes, and, Abby, bring your familiar."

  Abby threw on a sweater, a denim skirt and crepe-soled ankle boots. She let Bubsy out on the front porch while she locked up.

  The black cat slinked down the steps and waited, his golden orbs zeroing-in on two chattering squirrels skipping back forth on a tree limb.

  His head turned when he heard her footsteps on the concrete walkway. She noticed his sly eyes twitching. "You better watch out for that pair," he said and squinted up at the squirrels. "They're gnawing a hole in your roof and intend to spend the winter partying in the attic."

  Abby's head jerked up. "You better not!" To the cat, she said, "Can't you scare them off?"

  "Cat Dude can do anything. But that's for later. We gotta go." He loped to the car.

  As she rounded the hood, Abby noticed Brenda across the street sitting on the wrought iron bench in Lulu's front yard. She was just sitting there. She wasn't on her phone or texting or reading a book.

  Not wanting to make the timid young woman feel like she was being snubbed, Abby waved.

  Brenda didn't respond. She seemed unaware of Abby, unaware of the sun filtering through the drifting clouds, unaware of the chorus of birds or the wind playing in the leaves.

  "She's day dreaming," Abby concluded, reaching for a positive slant. She opened the driver's side door; Bubsy hustled past her and settled into the passenger seat.

  She placed her leg on the seat and was about to slip behind the wheel but paused, feeling caught in a bind.

  Part of her felt obliged to walk across the street and tell Lulu about Mr. Steed. She hadn't called her last night when she returned from the clinic because she wasn't sure how Lulu would take it.

  No, that wasn't true. She was certain Lulu would want to immediately drive into town to see him. Not a good idea this late at night.

  For one thing, visiting hours were over. It would be a hassle to get anyone to let them inside, and, besides, he'd be asleep.

  If she was in an obstinate mood, Lulu might make a scene and Abby was simply too tired to deal with that last night, and right now was not a good time. She needed to get to Harriet.

  Then again, the grapevine might have already blasted the news. Lulu would be one of the first to hear from the gossip mavens. If Abby weren't around, she might drive her beloved Rolls, which had been having electrical problems.

  What if the car suddenly stopped on the road and was rammed by another vehicle? And Lulu had grumbled about fuzzy vision and needing an eye exam. She might be a danger on the road, to herself and others. Wait a second. Brenda was there. Brenda could drive her.

  Bubsy interrupted her thoughts. "Meow, meow. That's cat for 'let's go.' Vámanos."

  Feeling a little less guilty, Abby buckled her seatbelt and off they went.

  As they cruised down Mount Dapple Road, Bubsy placed his front paws on the dashboard and peeked out at the passing landscape. "Don't do that," Abby cautioned. "Someone might see you."

  "Like who? There's no one on the road."

  Abby sniffed. "I guess it's a good thing you're not a dog. You'd be wanting to poke your head out the window."

  The cat snorted. "Yeah. And I'd be drooling too."

  When the car cruised over the wooden planks of the Moon Water Creek bridge, she warned him. "We're almost there. Down, boy."

  Bubsy ignored her, fascinated by the sights of the tiny mountain town. They passed by the square. Christmas decorations were going up. Bells, bows, candy canes, reindeers and twinkling lights were in the process of being strung from one street to the next.

  Abby flipped on the left turn signal and warned him again. "Get down. I mean it. We're a minute away." This time, he hopped into the backseat.

  Abby's gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. A twinkling tawny light glowed in the backseat as the cat transformed into the velvety black book.

  She parked, switched off the engine and reached into the backseat.

  Slipping the book into the pocket of her denim skirt, Abby pulled on a faux cashmere poncho and climbed out of the car.

  Perking up when she saw Abby, Harriet pushed out of the waiting room chair. "They've completed a new set of tests. No changes from last night's EEG and EKG. Did you bring him?"

  Abby patted her skirt pocket.

  Harriet explained her plan to Abby, and then said, "The sooner we know what happened to him, the faster we'll find a solution."

  They walked toward the patient rooms, stopping when Nelda entered from a back door and shooed off a friendlier nurse.

  Harriet squeezed Abby's arm. "I'm going to create a diversion so you can get past her, and I'll also cast a barrier spell. If it works, it won't last long in here because of all of the electrical equipment, so be quick."

  Harriet trotted up to the nurse station, yammering like a frazzled conspiracy theorist. "I need to see his tests. You people are not being truthful with me. What is it you're hiding? Show me his tests."

  "You're not a relative," Nelda shot back.

  "I'm a close friend," Harriet countered.

  While the spat ensued, Abby whisked down the corridor.

  A baby blue blanket covered the frail old man from his neck down. His white hair, still remarkably thick and woolly for his age, needed to be combed. It stood up in crazy stiff swirls like meringue.

  He'd hate that. He always likes to be well-groomed. She couldn't help but smile when she thought of him in his Mr. Rogers sweater and tie.

  The old man's eyes blinked open. "Hello, Mr. Steed," she said, aiming for a bright and merry tone, although it sounded phony to her.

  "Hello." His voice sounded the same, and yet it was different. Abby sensed the difference: his innately charming self was missing.

  He gazed up at the ceiling as if she wasn't there.

  Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, and a surge of tenderness for the old man swelled in her chest.

  They had to make this work. They had to determine what happened to him so they could fix it. Somehow they had to fix it.

  She brought out the black book and placed it at the foot of the bed. "Bubsy, you're on."

  A twinkle, then a flash of the tawny light encircled the book as it transfigured into the cat.

  Bubsy shook his cat body. "As much as I like the peace and quiet of my book life, one needs a ripping good yawn every once in a while to be happy."

  He did just that, yawned and stretched with his rump riding high up into the air, although, he didn't inflate into a giant King Kong cat this time.

  Harriet slipped inside the room. "The barrier spell is holding, for now."

  Earlier, she had explained to Abby that Rule Ten in the League's Code of Conduct prohibited a witch from entering the mind of a fellow witch without said witch's permission.

  However, there was no restriction regarding familiars.

  "Do what you can, Bubsy. Worm your way into his head."

  Bubsy narrowed his eyes. "Worm? Really, Harriet? That's a disturbing use of language."

  "You know what I mean. Quit dawdling."

  With his not-so-little cat feet, Bubsy padded across the blanket and sat an inch away from the old man's face. He turned toward Abby and Harriet. "Don't count on this working."

  Mr. Steed stayed in the same position, his head tilted and his eyes gazing up at the ceiling. An indication there was nothing registering in his muddled mind, not even the weight of a slightly chubby feline on his chest.

  Bubsy placed a paw on the old man's sagging chin.

  Mr. Steed's rheumy eyes shifted from the ceiling to the cat's golden orbs. They stared at each other, but Abby wasn't sure if Mr. Steed was comprehending anything except for the feel of the cat's paw on his chin. His eyes looked blank.

  Bubsy leaned in closer, his nose almost touching the old man's, as he whispered the poem of inducement. "Be not afraid. I bear you no harm. This is an enchantment, a simple but caring charm. Please feel at ease, there is no reason for alarm. Give me a welcome and I will enter your mind. It's completely your choice to show me what it is I must find. Be not afraid. I bear you no harm."

  Twice more, the cat repeated the inducement poem. The tip of his tail waggled. "I'm in. It's a jumble in here. His thoughts are short-circuiting and ... ah, what's this? I see images and scenes being shuffled like cards. Wait. It's stopped on one."

  The cat's ears twitched. "That's it, old man, show it to me. I see him. He's in the bookstore. He's talking to someone, a man."

  "Who is it?" Abby asked.

  "Can't see his face. He's a plump fellow and has an abominable taste in clothing. Ill-fitting black trousers and a tacky red sweater with penguins."

  Abby emitted a gleeful sound. "I know that sweater. It's Mr. Galvan, the assistant principal at the high school. He wore that sweater to Thanksgiving at the diner. He made it himself."

  Bubsy continued. "Mr. Steed has just looked away. I think I hear a bell ringing. The old man is smiling and walking away from Sweater Guy. I think there's someone else in the store."

  "Who?" Abby and Harriet said in unison.

  "I don't know. The image is fading away."

  Mr. Steed's eyes closed and his head sank back into his pillow.

  Bubsy's paw gently touched the old man's forearm. "You did good, old man. I know you fought hard to show me that."

  Abby and Harriet successfully fled the clinic before the barrier spell unspooled.

  Standing outside near Harriet's pickup, they determined the next move would be to speak to Mr. Galvan.

  Harriet needed to get to the diner to prep for the lunch rush. Abby assured her it was okay to go. "I can handle Sweater Guy alone."

  The high school wasn't far from the clinic. In a town as small as Moon Water, most everything was within five to ten minutes of each other—even the residential zones, except for a few like Honeyberry Woods.

  At the high school, Abby cracked the window. Bubsy had changed back into his cat body and was asleep in the backseat. The task with Mr. Steed had exhausted him. Once she explained who she was to the front office, she was buzzed into the main office where she asked to see Mr. Galvan.

  "I'll see if he's close by," said the school secretary. She checked a whiteboard with the staff schedules. "Mr. G is the advisor for the Anime club. Their meeting should be ending soon. Have a seat."

  Ten minutes later, the assistant principal blustered in. She hopped out of the chair, extending a hand. "Hi there, Mr. Galvan. I need a minute of your time please."

  It was literally a minute later when Abby dashed out of his office, her brows lifted in surprise. She couldn't get back to Honeyberry Woods fast enough.

  The moment her Volvo rolled into the driveway, Abby switched off the engine and grabbed her purse. She was opening the door when Bubsy woke up and squeezed between her legs and the seat to get outside.

  He hustled away to chase a butterfly as Abby bounded across the street to Lulu's house and jabbed the doorbell.

  It was immediately flung open as if Lulu had been right on the other side.

  The agitated septuagenarian eyed Abby with beady eyes that flicked to the cellphone in her hand. "Hold on a second, Patty Rae."

  Her scowl deepened. "Well, well. If it isn't Abby Little." Abby heard the ice in her voice.

  "We need to talk, Lulu."

  "Oh, so now we need to talk."

  She shook the phone at Abby. "I just now heard about Mr. Steed. Did you call to tell me? No, you did not. And I just heard you were at the clinic to see him. Did you call me to go with you? No, you did not!"

  Abby's cheeks reddened. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should have called you."

  Lulu spoke into the phone. "Thanks for letting me know, Patty Rae. You're a real friend."

  She punched the off button then turned and marched back into the house but left the front door open.

  Abby followed her inside. Lulu continued to gripe until Abby said, "Mr. Steed is the reason we need to talk."

  Reacting to Abby's solemnity, Lulu turned and almost whimpered, "But I heard he was okay. Shook up, but no injuries.”

  "No injuries, right, but his memory is ... weak."

  Relieved, Lulu waved off Abby's concern. "Oh, well, once he's rested, I'm sure he'll be back to normal. I'll take him some chicken soup."

  She headed into the kitchen. So did Abby. "Mr. Galvan said you were in the bookstore yesterday."

  "Galvan? Yes, that's right. I certainly was. So?"

  Abby felt Lulu's antennae awakening and tried to tamp down her own anxiety so Lulu wouldn't pick up on her concern.

  "It's nothing. I'm, well—I’m just wondering if Mr. Steed was feeling okay when you saw him in the bookstore."

  Lulu gave her a look. "He seemed fine."

  Her eyes narrowed with more than a trace of suspicion.

  Abby glanced down then back up. "Did you notice if there was someone else in the bookstore?"

  "Why?" The scent of suspicion now suffused the room.

  "Again, I'm just wondering. Maybe that person might have noticed if Mr. Steed was, um, feeling kind of, you know, off."

  "You have a 'tell,' Abby. You glance down then up before you attempt to make light of something or,"—her eyes needled into Abby's—"prevaricate. So, let's start over. You tell me what you know, or think you know, and I'll do the same."

  Abby considered the offer. How can I explain that Mr. Steed is a witch, a male witch, and I suspect some horrible rival witch hexed him with a Dim Fever spell?

  Certain of Lulu's dogged determination to get at the truth, Abby ventured, "You go first. Did you notice anyone else in the bookstore?"

  Lulu closed her eyes, retracing her visit. "Well, let's see. When I walked inside, I saw him with Joseph Galvan, and they were sniping at each other."

  Chapter Fourteen

  "They were arguing?"

  "They do it all the time. They disagree on all sorts of topics and love to bicker like talking heads on TV. This time, it was the Moon Water Creek story from 1928. Galvan called it a delusional fantasy."

  Abby had read a newspaper clip in the library concerning the creek. Before 1928, the town and the creek were named after its founder, a fur-trapper and saloon owner named Willard.

  But then, in January of 1928, a meteorite supposedly fell into the creek and turned the water blue. Many of the townspeople who drank from the creek reported a sense of being invincible. Some swore they possessed superior hearing, vision and the ability to speed through the woods like flying banshees.

  Even though the experience was temporary, a slim majority of the townspeople voted to change the names of the creek and the town to Moon Water.

  "Galvan called it a PR stunt to lure tourists up here. In my opinion, that's a valid theory and I tend to agree with him, but I'd never tell Percy that."

  "Percy?"

  "Mr. Steed. Percy Steed considers the creek story absolute fact. He has no doubt whatsoever it occurred as reported, and Galvan's remark about 'delusional fantasy' really set him off. He climbed onto his high horse ranting and raving, and that made Galvan laugh like a braying donkey.

  "That's when I interrupted them and told Percy to come talk to me about the Winter Festival. Every year, the stores in the square compete for the Best Storefront Award, and I had sketched out an idea for this year's competition.

  "We won last year because of my"—she gave a modest one-shoulder shrug—"design. Tap dancing candy canes. It was cute and looked simple, but it took forever to train the teenagers how to do a riffle step.

  "This year, I'm thinking elves, and instead of them being"—she winked—"on shelves, I'll have them walking around the bookstore, inside and outside, while reading aloud from Dickens, Shakespeare and, maybe, The Grinch.”

  "Okay," said Abby, frustrated. This must be how Ethan Moser feels when I go off topic. "But was there anyone else in the store?"

 

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